The Way Back
by Caitlyn Rose
Summary: "Deacon goes to AA, and physical therapy. He writes, and spends time with his girlfriend, and tries not to think about Rayna." A collection of missing scenes, and my own imaginings...


Deacon goes to AA, and physical therapy.

He writes, and spends time with his girlfriend, and tries not to think about Rayna.

**#**

He's walking down Broadway one afternoon, and he spots her sitting in an ice cream parlour with the girls.

Probably he shouldn't loiter, probably he seems like kind of a creep just peering through the window, but he can't help it.

Daphne is chatting animatedly and Rayna has her head thrown back, laughing along heartily. Maddie spoons some kind of chocolate concoction into her mouth slowly, smiling too – not quite in the thick of the action, but not necessarily unhappy about that, either.

Deacon knows the feeling.

He's seen this kid so many times, but suddenly it seems like he's never really looked at her at all before. Was it really possible that she could have his mouth? His nose? His anything?

Because even though he knows it's true now, it still doesn't seem real, somehow, that he could have had any part in something so perfect.

Rayna must be able to feel his eyes on her, because she glances up suddenly, looking right at him. She smiles a little uncertainly, raising one hand in a muted wave.

He just nods in response, and keeps on walking.

**#**

Rayna goes for walks along the river, and to vocal therapy.

She cooks, and spends time with her family, and tries not to think about Deacon.

**#**

One day, she overhears Scarlett on the phone.

"He's doing so great, yeah…" the younger girl trills happily. "He has this new girlfriend, they seem to be getting pretty close… she actually was his lawyer after the whole car accident situation…"

Rayna zones out after that, closing her eyes for a second, willing herself to shake it off.

Of course, she has always known – probably all too well – that Deacon Claybourne is possessed with no small amount of personal charm. And he'd never really been one to spend too long…unaccompanied.

Honestly, though.

His fucking _lawyer._

Apparently he couldn't even get arrested without some woman finding it irresistible.

**#**

The news – even the suggestion – that Rayna can no longer sing hits him like a physical force. He's over at her place within fifteen minutes.

It's only afterwards, as he's driving home, that he realizes that friends (or acquaintances, or whatever the fuck they're meant to be now) probably don't wander into each other's kitchens uninvited.

She hadn't particularly seemed to mind though.

What was it she had said? _You don't need to be anybody's guitar player_.

Eyes glassy with unshed tears, she had looked like maybe, at another time, in another world, she would have let him gather her in his arms and cradle her head against him.

Like maybe she would have begged him to do it - would have clung to him, and inhaled him, and just given herself permission to cry, for everything they had both lost.

As it was, he kept his distance and she choked out the words quickly.

_Don't you ever say you're done with music._

Deacon hasn't really thought about a solo career in a long time. But when he sees her on that stage with Luke Wheeler, every note as full and sweet as she ever sang it twenty years ago, he gets to thinking.

If she can come back from this, maybe he can, too.

**#**

Rayna's heart stops for a second – she isn't above admitting it.

But in some way, it is also kind of a relief to have Maddie finally just come out and say it.

_I want to see Deacon._

At least that initial sense of foreboding, of waiting on tenterhooks for her to make her first move, is gone once and for all now. At least she can be rid of the silent panic that's been rising in her stomach for weeks. Much longer, she'd been thinking, and the window of opportunity – the chance to claw back any kind of parenting victory here - would disappear altogether; this would harden irreversibly into an Unmentionable Subject - the sort of thing that could never be talked about, simply because it never had been.

Rayna tiptoed around enough of those herself as a kid, she doesn't want her own home to start filling up with them now too – no matter how painful the alternative.

Still, she can remember pretty well what it was like to pace the floors and check her watch, and wonder whether to call the cops or the hospital first. The very idea that Maddie too might discover all this is no less gut-wrenching than it ever was. She cannot open this door if there is even a chance that Deacon might close it.

There is just nothing for it, she realizes, but to go and see him.

**#**

Megan has heard "You're The Kind Of Trouble" so many times by now, Deacon would have thought she'd be sick of hearing it. But she actually sounds disappointed when he calls to tell her he's just played it at The Bluebird; she would have liked to be there, she said.

He would have liked her to be there too, when he thinks about it.

In all honesty, though, he _hasn't_ really thought about it until now, two hours after the fact. He spent the entire night with eyes for only one girl.

And for once, it wasn't Rayna.

**#**

The morning after Deacon's reintroduction to The Bluebird, she finds herself knocking on his door. She tries not to think about how many times she has been here since she stood at the side of the road and told him not to contact her.

He lets her in, and there are some awkward pleasantries before she gets to the point.

"I, um, I actually came to ask you – since last night went so well and everything – if maybe you would want to spend some more time with Maddie. Like…just you and her, maybe. If you want."

She isn't sure why she is so nervous, because he's just looking at her, something akin to awe in his expression. "Yeah," he says earnestly. "I mean, I don't reckon to know anything much about teenage girls but –"

"Well, you know something about this one," she interrupts gently. "That much was pretty obvious last night. And she loves you, Deacon. She always has."

He gives a small smile then, and Rayna supposes she could just hightail it on out of here now, and leave it at that. But she didn't lie awake for hours last night just to let herself off the hook at the last minute.

"The thing is," she continues, swallowing thickly. "When I came by here yesterday, I was just so tense and… I think I acted like… I don't know, like you had already disappointed her, or something. And you haven't. You _haven't_," she says emphatically, leaning forward towards him. "_I_ have."

She takes a breath. "Things between me and Maddie are kind of…rocky right now. Teddy isn't real high on her list either. But I know she's curious about you, and …_us_, and… all of that."

She shrugs uneasily. "Way I see it, you're the only one who hasn't lied to her. She might actually talk to you."

"And you're…ok with that?" he replies carefully.

"I…" she pauses, exhaling loudly, and it's almost a laugh, almost a sob – a dozen mangled emotions merged. "I'm scared to death," she admits. "But that's my problem."

He says nothing for a moment, just taking it all in. "How 'bout old Mayor Conrad?" he continues eventually. "He gonna have me barred from any place I try to take her?"

"Well. How about we say that's my problem too," Rayna answers with a rueful smile. "I don't know. I told Teddy that I'd protect his relationship with her, but I think – before that – I have to try to just protect her, _period_, you know? And whether he likes it or not, I think…" she bites the inside of her lip. "I think you're part of that now."

Deacon nods, inhaling deeply, his expression serious.

"I know this is, like, a lot for you, too," she adds disjointedly. "If it's too much –"

"No," he interrupts her. "No. It's like you're saying I guess. It ain't really about how we feel anymore. We just… gotta do what we gotta do. For her."

"Right," she nods. "I, um, I know maybe I've been… kind of strange since the accident and everything."

She fidgets with her hands awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes. "But it's just we said that was _it_, and I don't know how else to…"

She stops, unsure how to express herself, before beginning again, looking for a way in from another angle. "All those years, we tried to be friends and it just… it didn't really _work_, you know?" she squints up at him finally, "I mean, I still…"

She trails off, looking away again. "Anyway. I guess it doesn't matter. We'll figure it out."

**#**

They do figure it out - or they start trying to, at least.

It's Maddie who suggests the guitar lessons, and Rayna offers to drops her off at his place twice a week. If Teddy has a view on the subject, Deacon doesn't ask to hear it.

That first Wednesday, Rayna waits until the door is almost closed behind her, until she is shielded entirely from her daughter's view, before she swivels around to face him again.

"Remember I said she's been listening to a lot of your songs? And our songs?" she says quietly, head bent.

"Yeah," Deacon replies, glancing behind him towards the girl now setting up her stuff on his couch. "'A Life That's Good,' right? I thought maybe she might want to play it for me actually. I'd… really like to hear her sing it."

Rayna is momentarily distracted. "It _is _pretty awesome," she admits, her shy smile matching his tone. "But… you know. 'A Life That's Good'… it's kind of the least of our problems here, Deacon."

It takes him a minute to work out what in hell she's talking about, but eventually the penny drops.

"Oh, you mean…"

…that, of all the ways the highs and lows of their relationship have been committed to music, the first song their daughter happened upon was by no means the most intense. Or the most specific.

"_Yeah_," Rayna replies pointedly, not bothering to fill in the blank. "I'm just saying - be prepared. She doesn't give up easy."

Deacon swallows.

**#**

The first time she hears the two of them singing together, she doesn't think she breathes for the full two minutes.

She's dimly aware of Teddy bursting a blood vessel beside her, and in retrospect, she will wonder whether perhaps she should have concentrated a little more on diffusing that whole situation. But she just cannot take her eyes from the sight in front of her.

They are so perfectly in sync, so obviously meant to be, that – suddenly - it actually makes Rayna feel a little bit sick.

**#**

Deacon jokes that everyone going through some kind of life crisis or transition should have a Megan.

He wasn't expecting to be in a relationship at this point, and logic would suggest it may not be a very good idea, but she is such a reassuring presence: absolutely secure in herself, resolutely supportive of him, almost preternaturally even-keeled…she really is good for him in so many ways.

And if there are parts of him that she will never fully understand, then he tells himself it doesn't matter.

In fact, it's probably all the better.

**#**

Rayna isn't entirely sure how she ended up in a parking lot in the freezing cold, so near and yet so far from the Music City Music Festival. And it's definitely a little odd to be the one watching him – at least like this, outside the intimacy of The Bluebird, or her bedroom.

But on some basic level, it makes her happy to see him looking so happy.

And she is once again reminded of the inescapable truth confirmed by a thirteen-year marriage. For better or for worse, all good sense aside, Deacon Claybourne is the sexiest man she has ever laid eyes on.

**#**

One week turns into another and another again, until Deacon stops counting them.

He stops worrying so much about what snacks to buy for Maddie, or what to say to her. Between the two of them, they start to find a rhythm. They might watch a movie, or go out to eat, and he gobbles every crumb of information – every like and dislike she offers up - greedily.

Sometimes he still feels like he is so out of his depth it is terrifying, but more and more, it just feels like fun. Music helps, of course, because that is mostly what they do together; talk about it, listen to it, create it.

Seeing her – seeing his _daughter _– becomes the highlight of his week.

Deacon tries to focus on the here and now. He tries not stare blankly at the TV when she leaves, thinking about all the things he's missed… special days, ordinary days, firsts of all kinds… things he's starting to believe he might actually have done an ok job with, had he only been given half a chance.

He doesn't want to be eaten up by bitterness or anger. He doesn't want to be the kind of guy who sinks a bottle of whiskey and ends up pulling the person he loves most from a car wreck. He hates that guy.

So he guards against the wondering why, and the thoughts of what was stolen from him - and in fact for the most part, he does so fairly successfully. Doesn't Rayna usually stay for five or ten minutes now when she comes to collect Maddie, and don't the two of them make pleasant conversation easily?

It's all very 21st century, very well-adjusted, very mature co-parenting.

But still, somewhere underneath the small talk, he can't help it; those questions, those thoughts, are not going away.

**#**

The second time Rayna hears them sing, it's a song they've written together. Daphne chimes in towards the end as well, and it's all just too much.

That overwhelming sick feeling in the pit of her stomach is back, and she wonders vaguely if it's ever fully gone away after that disastrous conversation in her dressing room at the Country Music Awards.

"Girls, can you go wait in the car just a sec" she says, and something in her voice or expression must tell them that this is not a request, because they scarper with the kind of unquestioning compliance she doesn't see much of anymore.

"Y' ok?" he asks simply, once they are alone.

She nods slowly, and he doesn't press her when she sits there in silence for a moment.

"I _am_ sorry, you know," she says eventually, and her voice has a strangled, almost desperate quality to it. "About not telling you, and about the way you found out – just all of it. I know it doesn't make any difference, but with the way everything went down, I never really got to say that. And I _need_ you to know."

She swallows, blinking furiously. "I see you two together, and I am _so_ _sorry_. It's the worst thing I've ever done in my whole life."

It takes a moment of motionless quiet before Deacon responds, but when he does, she can tell that he has thought about this a lot.

"You know what, Ray?" he starts carefully. "Back then, when she was born? I get that, I really do. I was a mess, in and out of rehab… I get it. But you had thirteen years after that. _Thirteen years_ where I was in your life – in _her_ life – and you _still_ didn't think I was good enough. That's… that's the part that really hurts."

She has been on the verge of tears from about halfway through "You Keep Me Believing," and now her whole face crumples. She raises a hand to hide her eyes, to recompose herself. "I know. But it wasn't like that, I swear."

His face betrays no reaction whatsoever, and it frustrates her to think that she's not reaching him. She'd take being yelled at first.

"Do you honestly think that I wanted to…what, punish you?" she continues urgently. "Hurt you? Like maybe I got some kind of kick out of all of this? Come on. You know I would never deliberately hurt you. Ever_. _You have to know that."

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "Sometimes, Ray, when I think about those thirteen years… I wonder whether I know you at all."

They just sit there after that, looking at one another helplessly, the fight having seemingly gone out of both of them.

Rayna is starting to brace herself for the drive home with two oblivious girls when, as though perhaps realizing that they might never have this chance again, he speaks.

"Ok. So you said it wasn't like you didn't think I was good enough. What _was_ it like, then, Ray? Seriously. Explain it to me," he says softly.

"I just…" she hesitates, wanting so badly for this to come out right. "I knew it would be so confusing for Maddie – and Daphne for that matter. It never seemed like the right time. And you were doing so good. I was so _proud_ of you," she says hoarsely, her voice almost a whisper. "I guess I was afraid of what might happen if I told you. I was afraid of what _did_ happen."

He barks out a laugh then, and it's the saddest thing she's ever heard. "Man, that that had to be pretty handy in some ways, huh? Me hitting the bottle like that?"

Maybe he doesn't see the look of total confusion on her face, because he just continues undeterred.

"I mean, talk about some instant validation. Hell, even _I_ pretty much absolved you on the spot."

Rayna shakes her head fiercely. "Don't," she warns shortly, because she just cannot bear to hear him talk like this.

Or is it that she cannot bear to countenance the thought that he might be onto something? Even a little bit? Confronted with such an unsettling possibility, Rayna is stunned into silence.

Then she takes a deep breath, and grasps for what she knows is true.

"That weekend, the weekend of the CMAs…you _broke_ my heart, Deacon," she says, trying mightily to keep her voice from wavering. "But I know I broke yours too. I know that. And I'm so sorry."

**#**

It occurs to him afterwards that things had been going along fine. She really didn't have to do it - bring it all back up like that. Apologize.

He ends up being glad she did, though. It was probably the conversation they should have started with and, whether it really changes anything or not, he feels somehow better just for having had it.

He doesn't like the thought that she might be feeling worse.

Between Maddie and his burgeoning solo career, Deacon is actually kind of…_happy_ these days. From what he can tell, Rayna seems to be doing real good too now that she's out from under Edgehill.

At this point, these seem like the things they should be focussing on. What's done is done.

He calls Rayna to tell her just that, and her breath hitches in her throat as he's saying goodbye.

"Deacon!" she says suddenly, as if she's worried he'll hang up before she gets up the nerve. "Do you think maybe…" she trails off, unsure. "Actually, you know what, let's talk about this in person. Meet me at your place tomorrow night?"

**#**

When he asks her what she wants to write about, she doesn't really know.

"Not love," is all the flippant reply she can come up with.

"Uh oh," he replies jokingly. "I don't know what's left, Ray."

She laughs, because he's probably right. "Not _love_ love, then," she amends. "Not the complicated kind."

_Not our kind._

**#**

They sit on the floor, she takes off her shoes and he orders a 14 inch pizza.

Deacon wouldn't say they're superstitious, exactly, but there seems no need to mess with what has always proven a winning formula.

"How 'bout 'keep it on the right side'," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "Keep it on the sweet side?"

"Keep it on the sweet side," she repeats thoughtfully, cocking her head before declaring that she likes it and turning to scribble it down.

As it turns out, she's still a hell of a songwriter - open and playful, and entirely without ego. There aren't a lot of people who get to see Ms Rayna Jaymes this way, and Deacon has often thought it was a shame, because it might be how he likes her best.

She's tapping her pen against her notepad now, lost in thought, until suddenly, he can feel her glancing over at him, almost timidly.

"Hey, you know, you were wrong the other night – when you said maybe you don't really know me," she says lightly. "Truth is, even after everything that's happened… I think you still know me better than probably either of us would like to admit."

Looking at her now, it's hard to disagree - and somehow, Deacon feels like he's been busted.

Seen through, one more time.

A small, private smile passes between them, until Rayna shifts on the floor, reaching across him toward the box on the coffee table.

"I _know_ you ain't planning to eat this entire pizza by yourself."

**#**

_How much do you hate that car?_

Rayna looks down at her cell, a half-smile rising to her lips unbidden as she reads the incoming text. She hasn't even left the tracks yet and the pictures are probably everywhere already, she should have known.

She hesitates a moment, glancing at the man beside her out of the corner of her eye. Luke is leaned forward in anticipation, those famous twinkling eyes and pearly whites on full display. He couldn't be more absorbed by the race in front of him.

She doesn't want to be disloyal – because she really _does_ appreciate the thought. And she genuinely _is_ excited about the business potential - a promotional opportunity this significant just isn't one she can afford to turn down right now. But still.

Her face… that big… wrapped around a fucking sportscar?

It has about as much to do with music as that godawful shampoo commercial.

She types out a brief, one-handed reply, and hits "send" before she has too much time to think about it. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she can't seem to shift that ghost of a smile. It feels like a secret.

_SO much._

**#**

Their song is a hit.

And of course, the thing about a hit song is that people want to hear it.

He and Rayna are invited to perform "This Time" on any number of talk shows and radio stations, from which they select a handful. They play it at The Opry, too, and even take a quick trip to Austin for _South By Southwest_, moving around each other like pieces on a chessboard all the while.

They shock themselves (and one another) with the ever more frequent moments when they fall back into laughter, back into unguarded honesty. But it doesn't usually take too long for them to retreat, to remember guiltily what they've done to one another, to realize the unwise deviation from their arrangement. In the form of an already-fragile fourteen year old girl, they have something way too important to screw up now. And they are supposed to be saving themselves these days, after all; self preservation is everything.

When they sing, though, it isn't like that. There is no second guessing or going against the grain, no awkwardness or regret.

When they sing, any fool could see that they are each other's entire world.

**#**

Old habits obviously die hard, because her first impulse is to drive over to his house, the recording studio, wherever... to just _find him. _

She's still remembers that bathroom conversation (of sorts) with Scarlet, though, and she's getting better at fighting her instincts – most of the time, at least.

So instead, she ends up down by the river.

She hears him jump the fence, feels him hop up on the picnic table beside her, but she makes no acknowledgement of him. She just keeps looking out into the distance, all pale skin and wide, vacant eyes.

"I heard," he explains simply. "It was on the radio. Ray," – his fingers graze her forearm lightly - "you ok? Talk to me. "

"I'm fine," she replies, in what she intends to be a calm, capable fashion, but her voice cracks a little.

When she turns to look at him at last, it is her undoing. Because suddenly her eyes are filling up, and she is crying – huge, gasping sobs that wrack her whole body.

Wrapping an arm around her wordlessly, he holds her until the tears stop, and for a long time after that too.

"I know he was kind of bastard," she croaks eventually, "but he was my dad."

Deacon just squeezes her a little bit more tightly and Rayna is overwhelmed with a fresh wave of despair, recalling that he is not supposed to be this person any more - the one who'll know how to reach her even when she doesn't come running.

Here he is, though, warm and solid and familiar, and there is no one else. She doesn't want anybody else.

Rayna is at a loss to know how to deal with that… and she is just so exhausted. Closing her eyes, she goes limp against him; today, she decides, is not the day to figure it out.

**#**

His own father was a drunk, who – aside from a terminally sour personality - had had cirrhosis of the liver, pancreatitis and emphysema for the better part of thirty years. His death, when it came, felt more like a formality than anything else.

He had told her that on the phone, actually, but she didn't listen. She cancelled two sold out shows, flew into Birmingham, Alabama, and just started driving.

Rayna wasn't even his at the time – she had a ring on her finger by then. But still, she stood with him at the front of the church for the entire service, and she didn't let go of his hand once.

So on the day of Lamar's funeral, no matter what anybody says, it doesn't seem inappropriate – in fact, it seems only _right _– that he would do the same for her.

**#**

When she breaks up with Luke, she doesn't expect it to really hurt at all.

There's some satisfaction in realizing she was right on the money.

And that's that.

**#**

Deacon gets his way with the record – or kind of, at least.

The "Live at the Bluebird" concept gets the green light, but at least a couple of all-star duets remain, apparently, non-negotiable. His album just isn't marketable otherwise.

Going to Rayna, cap in hand, to ask if she'll do a song with him feels a little weird.

But then, she seems so genuinely flattered to be asked that he kind of forgets to be embarrassed.

She'll do anything, she says, before he's even gotten his full speech out. Oohs and aahs in the background – anything.

Deacon's not sure if he truly expected any different, but it's still surprisingly nice to hear.

**#**

She goes to his launch party, and when she sees him across the room, she feels it again.

The same thing she felt at Edgehill's party for "Ball and Chain," and at that god-awful polo match, and at so many of the other social events she has attended in her adult life.

_Oh, there you are. _

_Thank God._

She wonders if it will ever go away at this point. Or if perhaps she will just always feel – with literally no regard for logic – that things are better, safer, when he is there. That out of all these people, he is somehow, indefinably…_hers._

He approaches to thank her for coming, and she just shrugs. "You've been to one or two of these for me – it was probably my turn."

"There's free shrimp," he offers.

She smiles. "What's an album launch without it?"

And she knocks against him as they make their way towards the food together. "Have they airbrushed you on that photo?"

**#**

He's in the kitchen one afternoon, waiting in the way that, he is discovering, only the parent of a teenage girl knows how.

Her swift removal of a half-full bottle of wine from the island is subtle, the annoyance at her own forgetfulness quickly masked, but he catches both nonetheless.

"It's ok, Ray" he says softly. "Really. I… thought I was gonna go right back to where I was too, like all those years didn't even matter. But I haven't. I'm actually…ok."

She nods almost imperceptibly.

"You're allowed to feel… vulnerable, though," she says then, looking up at him through long eyelashes. "Like, you could tell me."

He's on the verge of a stock answer when he hesitates. Very few people – he might even venture to say nobody – truly knew what he had put this woman through. And that, of course, was because she hadn't let them, because she had protected him in every way possible. The least she deserved was honesty from him – so he makes himself stop, really think about what she's asking.

"I can't say I'm never going to drink again," he admits. "You know that. And I can't say there isn't a part of me that wants to. But the bigger part of me really _doesn't_ want to. I definitely don't plan to. And right now…" - he shrugs, as though he is almost at a loss to explain it himself - "honestly, I actually _don't_ feel vulnerable. No more so than I have for the past thirteen years, I mean. I don't know, I just feel good. In control of it, you know?"

Rayna smiles weakly. "I'm glad. I just…with Coleman not around and everything…" she trails off helplessly. "I guess I wouldn't want you to feel like you didn't have anyone you could tell."

He nods solemnly. "Well, thank you."

"I hate myself for the way I reacted to the whole Maddie thing," he says then, the words tumbling out unbidden. "For losing control and …scaring you like that."

His voice cracks. "Hurting you."

Rayna just shakes her head. "I don't want you to hate yourself. _I_ don't hate you."

She shifts her gaze abruptly. "Where in lord's name is that girl anyway? I'd better just…

And with a vague gesture towards the stairs, she is gone.

**#**

"I can't believe you said that to him!" Rayna shrieks laughingly, nearly spilling her coffee all over herself in the process. "Poor guy!"

"What?" Deacon protests. "I don't want to encourage this whole 'coming to me with his romantic problems' situation. Way I see it, Avery wants to be with Juliette Barnes, he's just going to have to expect that he won't have damned clue what's hit him most days."

Rayna laughs again, and it's times like this that he can't help but notice that, really, she is just unfeasibly, _unfairly_ beautiful.

He seems to spend a couple of evenings a week here now, still on this couch long after Maddie and Daphne have gone to bed. It's not through any great design on his part - he's not making a move, or hoping to impress; he's not really sure why he stays, when he thinks about it. But he is only human. And there are moments when, in the comfy black pants she seems to pull on at the end of every day, she looks so perfect that it is impossible to ignore.

"I'll tell you what though," he continues, his thoughts finding no expression on his face, "the kid's talented. Might be worth checking out for Highway 65, even."

"You think so?"

Deacon shrugs. "If you're interested. I mean you got two girls now, and you're still thinking about that band, right? Cadillac Black?"

"Cadillac Three, I think they're called now."

Deacon winces. "Cadillac Black was better."

"I know."

"Anyway. Might be good to have a guy in the mix too."

Curled up opposite him, one leg clutched to her chest, Rayna raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I want a guy in the mix," she says, almost coquettishly. "It just isn't Avery Barkley."

There is no real mistaking her meaning, but he holds her gaze for a moment just to be sure, before breaking into a bashful smile.

"How many records do Belcourt expect to get out of you?" she asks, would-be casually.

"Just one to start with," he answers.

"And you've done that one already…" she says slowly.

"…Yeah."

"Overachiever…" she mocks gently, before shrugging her shoulders, all innocence. "Well, I'm not asking," she tells him. "I'm just saying. Think about it."

Suddenly, Deacon smirks wickedly. "You gonna make me a big star, Rayna James?"

"No," she rolls her eyes with a smile. "But I will give you what you _actually_ want."

"Oh yeah? And what might that be?" he replies loftily. She thinks she knows him so well.

"Someone who'll put out your songs, and promote them, and do all the stuff you hate. And then just not get in your way when it comes to what you love."

Deacon cocks his head. He has to admit, she's pretty on point.

Something to think about, indeed.

**#**

Megan ends it in much the same logical, respectful fashion that she does most things. He barely realizes he's been broken up with until she's putting all her stuff in her car and driving away.

She's thought about it apparently, and she's come to see that she probably will never love him like she loved David; he probably will never love her like he loved Rayna. And that might be fine, she says, not necessarily a bad thing… if it weren't for the fact that Rayna isn't actually dead.

She's right across town, mentoring his niece, recording his songs, raising his daughter.

If the situation were reversed, Megan can't think of anything that would keep her away.

So _now_ - she says, ignoring his protests and laying her key gently on the kitchen table – there will be nothing keeping _him_ away, either.

The shock subsides soon enough.

And after that, Deacon is just plain furious.

**#**

Maddie and Daphne are skipping down Deacon's driveway after a guitar lesson, making their way into the waiting car, but Rayna lingers at his door.

"Hey, so I was wondering, you think the girls could come and hang out here tomorrow night? I got this meeting and apparently Teddy has –"

"Sure. That's fine by me," he interrupts, with that same hint of tightness in his voice that's been there, inexplicably, for days now.

Rayna looks uncertain. "Only if it's not putting you out," she says tentatively. "I mean I know it's Saturday night and all, so if you have plans with Megan or whatever…"

"It's not a problem," he replies, even more tersely. "We're actually… not together anymore, so... it's not a problem."

"Oh," Rayna says, taken aback. "Oh. I'm sorry. Are you …ok, or…?"

"I'm fine."

"Ok. It's just, you know, you seem kind of…upset, so-"

"Look I don't want to be rude, Ray," he stops her short. "But this is probably none of your business."

"Well, you've been weird all week, and that affects Maddie and Daphne, therefore it _is_ my business," she retorts, kicking in to self-defence mode.

Deacon rolls his eyes. "The hell it does, why don't you go ask 'em if they had a good time today, huh? This whole thing has nothing to do with them."

"Well, what does it have to do with, then?" she says, frustrated. "Come on, you're clearly not happy. Just talk to me."

Deacon scoffs. "I reckon _you_ are probably just about the last person I should be talking to about this. Although I guess the damage is done at this point."

His tone is nothing short of scornful, and Rayna is shocked into silence. Something about this doesn't add up, something about the way he's speaking to her jars and leaves her reeling.

She frowns. "What do you… are you saying….? Hang on a minute," she says, seeming finally to get a grip of the situation. "Are you saying this happened 'cause of me?"

He just shrugs, but somehow there still manages to be something pent-up and antagonistic about the gesture.

Rayna glances toward her car at the bottom of the driveway. "Ok," she says carefully. "I'm going to go and drop the girls at Teddy's or…something, I don't know. And then I'm gonna come back here, and we're gonna talk. Or better still, meet me at our spot, ok? That'll be quicker. Can you do that?"

Deacon doesn't answer, but when she pulls up at the old bridge forty minutes later, he's already there.

**#**

She hops up beside him on the picnic table, and they sit together for a moment, exactly as they've done a million times before.

"Did Megan think that we were having…an _affair_, or something?" Rayna asks apprehensively. "Because I can go talk to her if you want."

"No, it wasn't that. I think…I don't really know, actually," Deacon admits. "I guess she just felt like she was ... getting in the middle of something. Between you and me. So, there you go," he laughs hollowly. "Even when I'm not with you, I can't be with anyone else either, apparently. It's pretty awesome."

Rayna, apparently not knowing what to say, says nothing.

"Look, I'm sorry, Ray," he says eventually with a heavy sigh. "I know I've been a bastard to be around this week, I guess I've just been…pissed the hell off, if you want know the truth. But it's not your fault. And we really don't need to make a whole big deal of this. I guess we just gotta get back to doing our thing, keeping our distance, all that…"

Rayna bites her bottom lip. "I don't know if… I mean, is that what you _want_?" she says falteringly.

He shrugs, dismissive. "Doesn't much matter what I want, Ray. Way I remember it, this whole "separate lives" thing was your idea. What now? Somewhere in the last hour you just changed your mind on that one?"

"Well…I think it might be an ok idea if we were any good at actually doing it," she replies, unable to help the wry tone creeping into her voice. "But the fact of the matter is, we're _terrible_ at it, Deacon. I mean seriously. I was in a _coma_. You were in _jail_. And yet here we are, right back in this exact same place. Nothing changes."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rayna takes a deep breath, and says nothing for a moment. She hardly knows where to start. Does she even want to start?

Maybe it's now or never.

"I means I _hated_ that you were with Megan," she admits finally. "There. I said it. She was a nice person, and maybe you guys were good together, but I hated it. Just like I hated it when you were with Stacy, or with any one of those other girls. And I broke up with Luke Wheeler for pretty much the same reason I left Liam standing in an airport, and the same reason I divorced Teddy. I could meet the most amazing guy in the world tomorrow and I can't really see him faring much better, to be honest. Nothing changes."

Deacon is quiet, and she holds his gaze for a minute, trying to will a response out of him, before she looks away, defeated.

Staring out at the river, she blinks back hot, angry tears. _So stupid._

But then, she always seems to be the one who says the things that are hard to say, who goes out on a limb. Hadn't she turned up on his doorstep one night, at the age of forty four, just to tell him that she loved him?

Suddenly, she whips back around to look at him. "When I was married to Teddy, you never once asked me to leave him," - she states calmly, a simple observation – "which, for the most part I actually really appreciated. And then after the accident, when I gave you back the ring, you went along with that too. You've always let me off the hook real easy, you know? Just gone off and written another sad song about it. But I don't want to be let off the hook anymore, Deacon. And I'm just saying," she can't help adding bitterly, "if there was ever a time when you might want to drop the martyr act and actually stand up and fight for us, now would be good. You really think you're going to find this with somebody else?"

Deacon is hit by a sudden, searing anger. He almost can't believe what he's hearing. _She_ thinks _he _hasn't tried hard enough? When _she_ was the one…

"Well, I don't know, Ray," he spits out, before he can even fully process his own thoughts. "I guess it _would_ be hard to find something this…this fucking _toxic_ on short notice. You and I have had years of practice by now."

Rayna's eyes widen, she looks like she has been slapped across the face.

"Well you know what, Deacon?" she cries. "Fine. _Fine_. Then move out to LA, I'm sure you could get yourself a publishing deal in like a week, maximum. Or just go up to the cabin and fucking grow your beard for all I care. But if that's really how you feel, you're going to have to go _somewhere_ – or else I am, because I don't think we can stay living in the same town."

She is almost breathless by now, and Deacon feels entirely like he's had the wind knocked out of him too. They stare at each other, chests heaving, as though they're both palpably shell shocked by how far this has gone, by how much they've said. There is a desperate, dazed kind of expression on Rayna's face that perfectly matches Deacon's own mess of feelings – and the recognition alone is just such a relief somehow, that that he finds himself pulled towards her like a magnet.

It's just an inelegant, instinctive press of his lips to hers, and she inhales sharply through her nose before drawing back a few inches, looking at him searchingly.

He hopes that, by some magic or miracle, she can see what he can't say. Because there really is no adequate means to express the breadth and depth of his feelings for this woman. He has dozens of songs to prove it.

Something he could never describe, but that is so intimate, so inherently _known_ to both of them, passes between their eyes, and Rayna must be satisfied, because a long moment later, she is moving toward him once more, slowly, slowly. Part of him wonders if it is deliberate, if she is giving them both a chance to back out of this.

They don't.

Instead, everything blurs into a haze of warm breath and the flutter of eyelashes against his cheek, and kisses so soft he raises both hands to her face, just to make sure she's coming back.

She does come back, though; over and over again in a rhythm that is somehow languid and insistent at once, rubbing her nose against his, kissing him like she means it, like all she wants is this chance to love him.

He pulls her as close as he can get her and bites oh-so-gently on her bottom lip, trailing his tongue along it and into her mouth. Rayna parts her lips without hesitation, letting him taste her, moaning almost inaudibly somewhere in the back of her throat. And through it all, Deacon can form only one clear thought:

She was right. There is nothing else – literally nothing – that feels like this. Like _them_.

At a certain point the need for air makes him break away, but, with a low hum of protest, eyes still closed, she tugs him back by the lapels of his flannel shirt. And for what might be ten minutes or might be an hour, they wrap around each other on top of that uncomfortable old picnic table - just four hands and two faces and nothing else in the world at all.

"I don't want to leave town" he mumbles eventually, his forehead against hers.

"Me neither," she answers.

He pulls back to look at her properly. "Ok. So, we'll just both stay, then."

She blinks, understanding exactly what he is saying. "Even if it's hard?"

"Even if it's hard," he confirms. "I've loved you every single day for thirty years. I can't be happy any other way than with you, Ray. You, and Maddie and Daphne. You know I'm not really good at saying it… unless I got a mic in my hand. But y'all are... everything to me."

Rayna nods, a kind of giddy happiness bubbling under the surface. "Ok. Because this is it for me, y'know? I'm done. I just want you."

He kisses her then, tries to pour all the passion he can into it, before gathering her in his arms and squeezing her tightly.

"I love you," she whispers fiercely, into his neck. "I love you, I love you."

And Deacon has heard those words from her so many times before – but it feels like the first.


End file.
